


raindrops

by lenardo_09



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25564954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenardo_09/pseuds/lenardo_09
Summary: Elliott loved many things about the world, and Tae Joon was just one of them.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	raindrops

Elliott liked the rain. When it was a pleasant drizzle, he could listen to it for hours, letting the pleasant ambiance add noise to the quiet as he worked on his gear. When it was just a light sprinkle, he went outside and took a short walk, feeling the pleasant drops against his warm skin. When it poured, heavy raindrops landing heavily against nearby surfaces, it remained enjoyable, if not a bit worrisome at times; the looming threat of thunder and lightning was especially present during such times. 

He likes the rain, but being caught in a downpour with his boyfriend—he didn't like that very much. Tae Joon was soaked to the bone, even through his hoodie, and Elliott fared no better, completely drenched and miserable. They found an awning to find shelter beneath, hearing the rain violently patter against the sheet above. Frankly, neither of them bothered to check the weather, so they hadn't thought it’d rain like so, and, with it looking like it wouldn't let up anytime soon, it seems this awning was their area to stay dry in. 

Elliott released a reliever breath, both of them panting after having run through the rain to find momentary shelter. They were out purchasing a few essentials (Park would argue the definition of “essentials,” since what they purchase is mostly beauty products; Elliott always rebuttals that self-care  _ is _ essential, and Park is just a lone hermit that's never heard of a face mask), and once they left the store, it immediately began raining. For a moment, Elliott thought it would just continue lightly sprinkling, so they walked in the light sprinkles, unbothered, but then the first heavy raindrop fell onto the hacker’s nose. And then another fell on Elliott’s head—and then it continued until they were running for the nearest shelter. 

Park placed his bags on the ground, leaning against the store behind him—closed, unfortunately. Elliott’s gaze shifted over to his beloved, focusing on the droplets that fell from raven hair and onto olive skin, watching it glide down the smooch skin, before falling again, the droplet now lost to the sidewalk. 

The trickster felt himself smile, jest twinkling in his eyes. “Damn, kid, you look a little wet there.”

A scoff escapes the other, head shaking gently. The action caused excess moisture to fall from his locks. “I couldn't possibly fathom as to why that could be.”

Elliott released a low laugh, eyes cast towards the rain. “Well, looks like we’re stuck here for a bit.”

When he looked back to where Park was, he noticed he looked faintly sad, watching the raindrops. There were a lot of things Elliott still didn't know about the man. He barely even got a name from him, didn't get to learn what he liked to eat (or if he ate at all), or even if he had any family. He didn't talk about himself, preferred keeping to himself, and Elliott respected that. It was like falling in love with a book: he didn't know what was inside, written along every page, but he didn't mind any. It was a work in progress, and he'd wait an eternity to read it. 

The engineer scooted a bit closer, a hand reaching out to lightly grasp Park’s. Colder than usual, but that's simply because of the water clinging to real and synthetic skin. The other looked up from where he had been absentmindedly staring, silent. 

“My mom and I used to sit in my room when bad thunderstorms happened,” he said, giving Park a warm smile, head moving so he was watching the rain create puddles in the streets. “She'd know just when to come in, right after the first quiet rumble of thunder. She would have some tea with her, a set of tools, and a project we were working on.” The smile didn't fade any, but his eyes grew sadder as the story continued, a passive moment of sadness. “We'd drink tea and work. Every time it thundered, my mom would yell at the clouds, tell ‘em to knock it off, and I'd laugh.”

“Only your mother would yell at clouds like they could hear her.”

“Yeah.” His thumb traced along the area where synthetic fiber met skin, fascinated by every part of Tae Joon, real or not. “‘Hey, you out there! Yeah, I'm talkin’ to you. Quit your rumblin’—my boy doesn't wanna hear it.’”

That got a soft laugh from his quiet lover, and it never failed to be a breathtaking sound—only reserved for him. “No wonder you turned out so weird.”

“My mom is the best—you're just jealous because I think she's cooler than you.”

“Moms should always be the coolest; I'm not jealous.”

Elliott shot him a look, mirth written in his features, before gently nudging the hacker with his elbow. “Mama’s boy.”

“Says the mama’s boy.”

Lighthearted banter—Elliott would miss it immensely if it ever left. He adored the fight his lover had, how he was able to return every jab with confidence and a smile now. Their prior banter always felt fun, but it was always impersonal, like they really were just putting on a show for the world. Now they were putting on a show for themselves, making each other laugh and smile and simply forget about the worries that plague them. It was a temporary moment of solace, Elliott reliving fond memories that Park seemed to have so few of. 

For a moment, he seemed quiet, thinking—always thinking, putting that big brain of his through the ringer every moment of every day. Sometimes, he wondered if he ever gave himself a break from the thoughts, if he let himself just stop and let himself rest. 

“Always on the run,” he would say. “Prepared, not paranoid.”

“My mother and sister loved walking in the rain,” was eventually whispered, and Elliott couldn't wipe the surprise from his features. 

“You don't—”

A gentle squeeze to his hand signaled Elliott should just keep quiet, so he welded his lips together and let the hacker speak. 

“Mom would pull an umbrella out from the basket and ask if we wanted to walk with her. We always said yes.” There was something in Tae Joon’s eyes he didn't recognize, a look foreign to the hacker. It was soft, fond, yet there was a certain longing. “My sister always ran out from under the umbrella, yanked me out, and we'd play in the puddles. Mom would scold us, tell us we'd get sick. She never did; I usually ended up in bed the next day with a fever.”

“Well, that bodes well for you right now,” Elliott commented, hand slipping out from Park’s to, instead, wrap securely around his frame, pulling him close—he'd begun shivering and he hadn't even noticed. “Might have to make soup for my shortcake tomorrow.”

“I'm an adult. I'm sure my immune system is better now.”

“Sure,” he drawled, receiving a faux glare from his lover. 

Park’s gaze eventually returned to the rain, continuing his moment of reminiscence. “Anyway, mom and my sister would help me feel better when I was sick. They were… kind people…”

Elliott got the feeling there was a lot the hacker wasn't mentioning; perhaps there were things he just couldn't know, too private, but he wouldn't push. This was the first time he'd ever been allowed past that metal barrier Tae Joon had built, and he was happy to have been given the chance to hear about his life, learn about his mother and sister. 

The downpour was slowly becoming a gentle drizzle, large droplets shrinking as time went on. Tae Joon seemed to notice, already bending down to fetch the bags he set down. 

“Your family sounded small, but… it sounded like they were great,” Elliott said, voice low, quiet. “I won't mention anything to anyone.”

“… Thank you.”

“Now, let’s get home. You have an appointment with a warm bath, hair curlers, and nail polish.”

Park groaned, though, by the end of it, he wasn't complaining any; he learned his favorite color was blue that day. 


End file.
